


I'll Fix This

by psychoticthings



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Language, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoticthings/pseuds/psychoticthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knows that Dave has a girlfriend, but he can't help but fall in love with the cool-kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy? Not Even Close

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing I've been working on during my free time in school. It's reached 22 pages in my notebook, and I haven't yet reached the end.  
> Enjoy!  
> xoxo  
> psychoticthings

  Everything is falling apart.

  You sneak a glance at the man currently standing beside you. Dave Strider is your best friend and maybe even the most precious thing in your life.

  One day, you decided you were done with being a small derp with too much time on his hands and nothing to do with it. So, you went to an online chat-room just for fun, and you met Dave. Soon, you discovered that you both lived in New York. Within a day, he had become your best friend.

  Things only got better from there. You discovered that he was also going to be a freshman in NYU. This discovery actually made you squeak and squeal like a girl, but you'll never mention that to anyone.

 Living with Dave is really great.

  Well, it  _was_ great.

  Around the time you yourself felt done and exited(temporarily, unfortunately) the world of being a loner, Dave also began to date a girl. Her name? Janet Thatcher. Everything changed drastically when they met-- Dave seemed so happy all the time. It became odd, creepy even. Sometimes you even thought he was faking it. Despite this, he was your best friend, and when he's happy, you're happy.

  And guess what college Janet would be attending! NYU. 

  You thought she'd be really great, so you decided to meet her. She  _was,_ indeed, sweet, but maybe she was a bit too sweet. Sickly sweet, even. Like if you were to drink a melted lollypop.  _That_ sweet. She even seemed fake sometimes. 

  You didn't see her very much-- only first period and sometimes lunch. Dave got to see her way more, of course. They spent most of the day together, and a couple of weeks after they started going out, you admitted to yourself that you were unhappy. You kept telling yourself it was only because you didn't get to see your best bro so much anymore, but...

  Suddenly, you're snapped out of your sullen, dark, 'nothing-can-fix-this-issue' reverie, and you realize Dave's been calling your name for a while because you hear, "John. Joooohn. Egderpian!" and a huff followed by a low chuckle.

  "Oh, yeah! Uh, yeah?" Man, that sounded lame, so you sigh, trying to shove that solemn daydream out the window to its death.

  He raises a brow and looks at you with pure concern, running a hand through his silken blonde hair as well. Even though his eyes are covered by the shades  _you_ got him, you can tell  _exactly_ what he's thinking. That's how well you know your best friend. Then he pulls out the only earplug that was hanging on to his ear. You got those earplugs for him, too. "You alright?"

  Idiotically, you speak your thoughts, "No..."  _Dammit, John, you **retard** , _you mentally punch yourself, and then you correct your previous statement. "Well, yes. Yeah, I'm fine." You scoff at your own stupidity, but it comes out like it's directed at the blonde standing beside you. You sound cruel, and you're not really sure why. Maybe it's because of those goddamned thoughts? 

  You sigh as you realize you just can't rid of those stupid thoughts. 

  Then comes Dave's response. He's prying, "Dude, you don't sound okay. You don't look it either." With that, you realize your hair's probably really messed up. You also realize you should stop taking your frustration out on your raven-black hair.

  Suddenly, you feel a warm hand- Dave's hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. What he doesn't know is that he's only making things worse for you, but of course, you can't say that. So, instead, you manage, trying not to clench your teeth, "Hey, Dave?"

  "Yeah?" he hums, removing his warm hand from your shoulder, and you kind of want to scream at the loss. 

  "I'm gonna go out for a while," you pause to grab a few things-- your jacket, phone, wallet, and notebook, just to look like you're actually going to be somewhat busy or studious. "Be back later, I guess."

  "Oh, sure," the blonde says hesitantly with a sigh. "I won't be back until later tonight, either." And you realize he's probably got another party attend, and Janet would probably be there too. You were never too interested in parties or any social events, really. 

  "Alright," you sigh back, and you take off, face blank. You just take a simple twenty minute walk around the area. When you decide you're a bit chilly and get back to the room, Dave is gone, which you feel is pretty good because you really just want to be alone. 

  Halfheartedly, you get your assignments done and then proceed to flop down onto your bed, and for a moment, all you can hear is the honking of obnoxious cabbies and the distant sound of a variety of awful pop songs that are only about getting high or having sex. 

  Sex, huh? Relationships, kisses, hugs, cuddles... You find yourself wanting all this.

  A minute tear then eases its way painfully slow out of your eye and down your face, and you don't even notice. It's not until the third tear you realize what's happening, and then, clumsily taking your thick-rimmed glasses off, you bury your head in your arms and sob. 

  Why are you sobbing? 

  Who knows. 

   _Maybe you're just scared of losing your best bro,_ you tell yourself,  _Nothing more._ But you know this is only an idiotic excuse. But what was it an excuse for?

  And who are you again?

  John. You are John Egbert, a middle-classed straight-A student who can live easily and cheerfully, but you're not happy at all. You're nothing close to happy.


	2. "Tell me what's wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, sorry it's a bit late! To those who read this and gave it a kudos, thanks!  
> xoxo  
> psychoticthings

  The next morning you wake up somehow angry. You don't bother to consider your own feelings, so you just get to your (somewhat) usual morning routine. You fix your hair, skip breakfast, brush your teeth, and get dressed, somwhere along the way remembering that you had a roommate. And that roommate was Dave. And that he could probably hear your annoyed and groggy muttering. You also realize you're the biggest pain in the ass ever. Last night, after your best friend returned and tried to comfort you, you ran away again and flopped down angrily on you bed. Why were you even angry at him?

  You hear a knock on the bathrom door and drop your cheap bottle of cologne in surprise, picking it up only to find the bathroom door collide with your butt. Then you hear a muffled laugh as you stand back up, angrily throwing the cheap plastic bottle in the sink, "What?" That didn't even  _sound_ like a question-- it was more of a douchy 'W h a t  t h e  f u c k  d o  y o u  w a n t', and you instantaneously cover your mouth. "Uh, sorry, I..." But you can't think up an idiotic excuse. 

  Dave pokes his head in after opening the door all the way, and your heart sinks. You don't even know why. He's already wearing his shades, and that just adds more anger to what you already feel. You only got to see those eyes once. And Janet...

  Janet got to see them all the time. You're Dave's best friend, and you get those BFF cuddles and everything, but... Maybe you just want to be with him. Wait--

   _Stop thinking like that, John,_ you wince at your own idiocy.  _  
_

_No, shut up._

_No, you shut up._

_Actually, just fucking stop talking to yourself._

_Good idea._

Do you love him or not? No! You  _can't--_ it's...

  You stop yourself and realize you're staring off into space again, silently having that retarded debate with yourself. Then you realize he's just been standing there.

  "John!" you flinch at your name, sighing because he'd probably been trying to talk to you for a while now. 

  "Yes?" you mutter, thinking man this isn't fair, it's not fair.

  "You should tell me what's wrong," after a pause, he adds, "Now."

  "No," you reply glumly, although you really really really do want to spit it all out. _  
_

"Look, man, I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what's been bothering you." He firmly states.

  "Too bad. I'm leaving," you scoff and maneuver yourself past the other, aiming for the door. Then, suddenly, you feel a hand on each of your shoulders. Warm hands. Dave's hands. "Don't--"

  "Listen to me," Dave firmly states again, pushing you down so that he's now on top of you on the floor. "Tell me what's wrong."

  You gulp. 

  Who are you again?

  Oh, right, you're John Egbert, and this is a very nervewracking situation.

  


	3. All Bottled Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOAAAR.

  You open your mouth to speak, to protest, but no sound comes out. Are you satisfied right now or...?

  No, you just have to stop thinking like that. Stop it, stop it, stop it,  _stop it._ But you can't stop it. You can't. You like this, and you can't deny it no matter how much you want to. 

  You cock your head to the side, trying to avoid the blonde's piercing gaze. He's hovering over you, hands still pinning you down. He's sitting on your legs, too, and man this isn't helping. Not helping, not helping.

  "John. Talk to me," you're a bit frightened, but you know he's only trying to help you out here. 

  "No." You manage to choke out, most of your strength being used to try and break free, but he's too strong. All those years of rooftop fights must've paid off. After a minute of struggling, you decide to give in with a sigh. There's absolutely no way in hell you can avoid talking to him now. So, you angrily interrogate, "What do you even  _want?"_

"I want you to tell me what's wrong," the boy pries.

  "Why should I?"

  "Because recently, every single time I see you, you run away, and I just want to help. If I'm doing something wrong, just tell me," he blurts out a bit too fast. Then he calms down and adds reassuringly, "Trust me." Dave loosens his grip on your wrists, and now you can break free and run away, but you don't. Maybe you don't want to.

  "Nothing to fix," you lie. Well, is it really a lie? There really  _is_ nothing to fix. You just want your best friend to be happy, even if it means sacrificing your own happiness. To your unfortune, he's happy with Janet. 

  Dave stops your train of thought, "There  _is_ something to fix-- I know it. And I  _can_ fix it. Just trust me." After a pause, he offers again, "Tell me what's bothering you?"

  Now, telling him what's wrong is a bit of a challenge mostly because you're not so sure what the problem is yourself, but you have to say  _something._ Your mind is processing thousands of thoughts, excuses, problems and solutions, but all your mouth agrees to say is, "I..."

  "What?" And when you don't answer, he adds more urgently, "You what?" You adjust your gaze and find that his shades are slowly sliding themselves off Dave's face, revealing his eyebrows.

  "Nothing," you finally and dubiously say. "I  _nothing._ "

  "Then how am I supposed to help you? You  _know_ I hate seeing you upset, and--"

  "I never asked you to help. Just let me leave," and with that, you scramble out from under the boy, grabbing your pack. You take off.

  Who are you again?

  You have to remind yourself so much...

  You're John Egbert, and you're just about to break from everything that's bottled up inside you.


	4. Oxytocin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oxytocin is a painful hormone.

  Class ended up being better than you expected. It was definitely better than staying with Dave. You  _did_ see Janet once or twice, and it kind of upset you. Despite this, you're in a somewhat good mood today. 

  You also feel alone. 

  You want to break away from Dave, from everyone, from every _thing,_ so you really don't understand why you're upset. Then that nagging voice in the back of your brain starts babbling again, and you remember.

  You love him, don't you?

  You've loved him for a long time, too, probably.

  You guess it's a bit of a relief, admitting to yourself that you love him. It's somewhat easier dealing with yourself, but there's still nothing to fix.

  You love Dave Strider. Now, on a daily basis, your own brain calls you a flaming hot homo. Welp.

  Speaking of Mister Strider the Asshole, he's walking towards you right now. You groan, although it's unwillingly. To your constant unfortune, he probably hears this because the boy removes his shades and looks you straight in the eye, grabbing hold of your shoulders again, "John fucking Egbert."

  "Yes, dickwad?" Whoops.

  "You're mad at me."

  "Stating the obvious, I see."

  "Dude. Why?"

  "Because..." You trail off. Honestly, you don't know why. You just... Basically, you love him, but you want him happy, and that means letting him be with Janet. And man you're acting like you have a fucking choice.

  "Okay, just," he sucks in a breath, "You're my best friend, and don't you dare think I  _don't_ fucking care about you. Just tell me and I can help! You're  _killing_ me here." You see Dave close those deep red eyes and sigh. 

  You want to scream that  _he's_ the one killing  _you,_ but instead, you calmly ease out, "I told you-- nothing's wrong." You're actually going to cry if this progresses any farther. He squeezes your shoulders harder, making you shiver and your eye twitch. 

  "Egbert, please! Just--" he pauses, lowering his voice, "I just don't want to see you like this anymore." He reopens his eyes, shaking you a bit.

  Goddamn he's pushing it. How could you  _ever_ tell him what's wrong? You wince at the thought.  _Yeah, uh, I'm sorta in love with you, but you're already going out with a girl so yeah._ You roll your eyes at this thought, nose tingling because you're so close to tears. You do another retarded thing now, blurting out, "How's Janet doing?" You're trying to sound casual, though you cringed when her name exited your lips.

  "What?" Dave's confused. You can see it in his eyes. He loosens his grip a bit. 

  You suddenly realize what that question could do to you.  _Oh shit,_ you mentally facepalm and hit yourself,  _Why am I such an **idiot**?_  You pray he's not catching on, you pray, you pray. You don't dare say anything more.

  "John," the blonde pauses, pulling his arms back. One hand scratches the back of his neck, and the other one just drops to his side. "John. You..." He pauses again. "Do..."

  Now you're just plain tired of holding it in. "Yeah, yep, yes I have a fucking thing for you. Happy  _now?"_  You're such a fucking  _asshole_. You just suck in a deep breath, feeling an odd heat spread over your cheeks. You also feel a lone tear ease itself down your cheek, and now you run. 

  You run back to the room. You run, you run, you run. The image of yourself in English class, half asleep as you listen to the professor rant on disappears. The only thing  that's running through your mind is Dave. Dave, Dave, Dave. You hastily search for the keys in your pockets, and you're so relieved when you find them. You run inside and slam the door shut behind you, and you just flop right onto your bed, letting out a series of choked sobs. You're still crying and shaking on your bed forty minutes later, and you guess you fall asleep because you don't remember anything else.


	5. Need or Greed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Butts.

  The next morning, your eyes slowly flutter open, and you feel disgusting-- hair messed up and face dry and cracked because of the salt from your own tears. You decide it's a good idea to stay in bed, so instead of getting up, you turn to lay on your side so that you're facing the blank wall. Remembering the events of the previous day, your nose starts to tingle again, and you're definitely not prepared for more salty and miserable tears. Dear god, you're a such a drama queen. Or maybe you're not. You really still haven't fully grasped your own situation. 

  Or maybe you just don't want to face it.

  That would be because you have feelings for your best friend, the guy you share a room with, who's probably(definitely) straight, who has a girlfriend, who probably(definitely) doesn't feel that way about you.

  You decide to spare yourself and doze off again, and an unwilling 'Dave' escapes your lips.  _Shit._ You keep forgetting he fucking lives with you.

  "Yes?" you hear from the other side of the room.  _Shit._  You keep forgetting he fucking lives with you. Dear god, help help help help help.

  "Uhhh." The fear fully wakes you, and your heart is pounding now as you try to find words. Dear god, help. Then you hear a rustle from the other side of the room, and then you hear footsteps, and then you hear and feel him sit himself down beside you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe as quietly as possible like this will just make you invisible. You wish.

  Then you feel a fucking  _hand_ on your shoulder, and you lose it. You don't fucking  _care_ if you're the one in the wrong, if you're being a mindless idiot, you just turn to him and grab his shirt, and you sob. You sob. You sob on what you think is the very cause of your misery.

  And after all you've done to him, he  _lets you_ sob on him. That's how great of a person-- a friend, he is. Hell, he even wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, his hands raking gently through your hair. How you've  _longed_ to feel those hands massaging through your jet black hair, but you never wanted it to be like this. Not like this, not with you crying so miserably. 

  "Shh," he coaxes, letting you sob and hiccup and make all the pathetic dying animal noises you're making. Dave's trying to calm you down, petting your hair and occasionally wiping at your cascading tears. He even whispers words of comfort as he holds you so close. "Shh, it'll be okay. I'm here, I'm here." Occasionally, the boy even throws out an 'I'm sorry.'

  Those apologies enrage you and make you sob even more. He never did anything wrong, and you refuse to let him apologize to you. It's all  _your_ fault, not his. So you courageously choke out, voice quivering, "D--" hic, "Don't b-be." Hic.

  Then you see the blonde raise a brow, and you realize that his shades are still on, which forces more sobs out of your pathetic mouth. Dave probably notices because he slips them off with no hesitation for you. That stops your painful cries. You shamelessly stare into those glistening pools of ruby red that shine under the moonlight. You just stare until he props you up, and you sigh shakily, "I'm s-sorr--"

  Dave shushes you and pulls you still somehow closer, gently resting is chin atop your head, one hand on your lower back, the other still stroking your hair. You love this so much, and that makes you feel even worse. It's not... _right._ But you just can't stop. You can't find the strength to break away and run again. You can't even find the strength to lay back down. You like being like this with him. 

  So you decide to fucking  _embrace_ your inner  _whore,_ and you loop your arms around him and nuzzle into Dave's neck. He grins, although, of course, you don't see it. 

  He's holding you still tighter, and your heart is racing, and dear god is that a featherlight kiss being placed on your forehead? Dave will surely be the death of you. 

  You break away and lay back down on the bed, finding that Dave does the same. He's laying on his side facing you and still playing with your hair with one hand while the other cups your cheek. Now this seems so awfully wrong, bu you don't care right now, so you take a(nother) chance and shuffle closer to the slightly larger boy, taking his hand. To your surprise, he obliges and even laces your fingers togeter. He even pulls you somehow even closer with is other hand. Hell, Dave even places another kiss on your forehead. This probably means less than nothing to him, but it makes you so fucking  _happy_ , but it's not  _enough_ for you when it should be.

  You're just too greedy. 

  The man you've loved for  _ages_ is holding you and giving you little minute kisses, but he doesn't love you as much as you love him. He never did, and he never will. 

  Who are you again?

  Oh, you're John Egbert, and you want to be done being upset and just  _enjoy this._

 


	6. Misunderstanding

  "Dave?"

  "Mhm?" he coos back, and you try to ignore how he's babying you. You also attempt to ignore the tiny pinch of lust or wanting or whatever that is in his voice.

  "I'm sorry," you manage despite your uncomfortableness. You feel him give your hand a gentle squeeze.

  "Don't be," Dave pauses to think and then adds, " _I'm_ sorry."

  "No," you insist, gripping his hand tightly, " _I'm_ the jealous homo asshole."

  "Then so am I."

  For a moment, you're confused. Really confused. Then the possibility dawns on you. Then you stutter out, dumbfounded, "Whoa, whoa, what?" He surely didn't mean...

  "Don't make me say it again, you idiot," he tries to keep his composure, but you could see that in actuality he's really damn nervous, scared even. Like when you threw a smuppet at him as a joke. Never will you do that again. He even lets out a low chuckle, probably half because of your facial expression. 

  "Wait, but... So..." You throw out a couple of attempts to start a sentence, but you really just don't know what to say. It didn't matter anyways because your sentence fragments were cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours. For a moment, you were frozen in shock, but you quickly recovered, though not fast enough to return the kiss.  _What the fuck is even happening I..._ You can't even finish your own thought.

  "Wait, Dave, but..." you try again, "What was  _that?_ "

  "Whoa, I expected you to know what a kiss is, at least." Dave laughs. How do you even laugh in a situation like this? After seeing your blank reaction, and instead of teaching Makeout 101 like you expect him to, he clears his throat. "I mean..." The boy trails off.

  "You mean...?"

  "I mean: you know that girl you used to go out with? What was her name..." he pauses, "Sarah? I think that was her name, anyways."

  You raise a brow. What's this got to do with  _that_  bitch? She kind of cheated on you with four other guys. Basically, she got to suck a different man's dick every night. "Stupid-bitch? Yeah, that's her."

  "Yeah, well, you never really told me how awful she was, and I thought you guys were gonna get married or some shit, so uh..." The blonde looks down and lifts his arm to scratch at the back of his neck, lowering his voice, "I'm an idiot, I know." 

  Your eyes widen, and you feel like your head is going to explode. You even give your arm a tiny pinch to make sure you're not dreaming. "God," you breathe out shakily, "I'm so sorry, I..." You don't know what else to say.

  "No, don't be!" he shoots back almost immediately. After realizing that was nearly a shout, Dave gives a sigh, muttering like a little boy in the wrong, "Sorry." You have to stifle a giggle at this because oh man he's just so  _cute._

  You don't really know what else to do, so you lean in to kiss him featherlight on the lips, and he grins and strokes your cheek. "It's all my fault," you mumble, and god _dammit_ another series of tears is trying to escape from your dark eyes. And before it reaches your chin, the boy in front of you spots it and wipes it away, kissing your forehead afterwards.

  "No, no, John," you can't help but shudder as Dave says your name, "I'm sorry." And he continues to hold you tight as your tears cascade rapidly down your cracking-from-tears face. Dave lays down on your bed with him in your arms so that your head is comfortably pressed against his warm chest. And he lets you cry again. He doesn't say anything to you-- he just keeps stroking your hair, and his very presence comforts you. 

 

 


	7. Temporary Forgetfulness

  You guess somewere along the way you fall asleep on him because the next morning, he wakes you up with a kiss to your forehead and a "Mornin'." Your only response is a smile and a look of surprise. Honestly, you think everything that happened last night was a dream. You even pinch yourself to make sure you're awake, and you're amazingly grateful when you don't wake up sweating and sobbing in another reality and you're actually waking up nuzzling Dave's hand.

  Then something occurs to you and ruins your fluffy mood. If Janet fucking Thatcher finds about about this, she and her entire gang of slutty gossip girls will be all over you. This whole thing is like a fucking reality TV show; it's ridiculous. And, no, brain, prankster shit's gonna help you with this, so stop thinking like that.  _It was a dare!_ They'd call you a manslut. What's that, brain? We'd have to tell her the truth? No thanks! 

  You're rolling your eyes at everything you think, and man you really have to stop expressing your thoughts with movement or whatever because Dave's looking at you weird. But you know he's probably thought this over as well.

  You sit up, letting a huge yawn escape you as you stretch your arms up above your head, propping back down on the other side of the bed afterwards, laying on your side so you could face Dave.

  Neither of you say anything for an eternal while, so you just stare into his beautiful red eyes, and he stares into your common pools of cerulean. You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, and you hear the other omit a low chuckle. You shiver when he unexpectedly lays his head gently on your side. Chuckling yourself, you loop your arm around his shoulders and pull him somehow closer. You want to stay like this forever; you want the thought of Janet's reaction to this out of your head. But you know that, sooner or later, she'll find out. And she won't be happy. 

  But for now, you just go with it-- you'll deal with that later. And now you'll have Dave to help you figure shit out.

  Speaking of the boy...

  He seems like a cute innocent uke. 

  Okay, no, John, stop thinking like that.

  Okay, I got this, I got this.

  So after a short while of internal bickering and name-calling and sexual thoughts, and you relax a bit and wrap your legs around Dave's. You are now a tangle of limbs. 

  "John?" he asks quietly, as if he's scared of you or something.

  "Mhm?"

  "Sorry," he mumbles, and you can see a hint of blush spread over his freckled cheeks. 

  "Shh, you didn't do anything wrong," you hum, running a hand through his soft blonde locks.

  He mumbles something you don't catch, but you decide it's something terribly sappy because afterwards he kisses your shoulder since he can't reach your lips. "But Dave..." you hesitantly say, suddenly sounding concerned.

  And Dave knows exactly what you're talking about. "Yeah, I know."

  "How are you..." you trail off. It's like you're in control of their relationship suddenly, and that makes you feel so terrible. "I don't," you pause, "I really don't have the right to do this to you. I'm sorry."

  "You're right." This kind of upsets you, bu-- "Normally, you wouldn't, but..." He pauses, getting off of you to lay on the bed facing you. "But I've kind of loved you for a really long time. Never thought I'd get so lucky, so..."

  You feel like a manipulative bastard when you're kind of happy to hear this, but you kiss him anyway, also rewarding him with a "I love you."

  Dave smiles(oh my god cutecutecute) and then addresses your original question. "But I mean... She-- Janet, and I have always been more really really really reaaally close friends than...you know," he pauses to catch his breath, "But I do know she really likes me, and..." He trails off, determining whether or not he should continue, and he does. "She's more 'fuck me' than 'make love to me and make it count'."

  You raise a brow. Wow he really  _did_ just say that, huh. Spotting a bit of blush spread over his cheeks, you decide to try (and fail) to de-awkward the conversation. "So..."

  Before you can get past that first two-lettered word, he goes on, "I could break up with her, but it's just that..." He trails off again and sighs. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

  Again, for what feels like the hundredth time, you raise a brow, but then you say, "Promise."

  "I trust you, so..." A deep breath. "She was the first person I've ever seriously gone out with. Like... _seriously_ gone out with. I just don't really know how..."

  "Whoa, whoa," you smirk at this statement. You're glad none of the slut-gossip gang is here because man this shit is juicy. "You've never gone out with anyone else before? To think that the great Dave Strider--"

  And the Great Dave Strider cuts you off with a "Egbert, shut the fuck up." But he stammers, and you feel accomplished. For the first time, you've gotten him speechless. You even gigglesnort, but then you realize you've never gone out with anyone seriously too.

  So you have to admit that. It's only fair.  _Sigh._ "Yeah, same," you say in a low voice, and now he's chuckling loudly so you roll your eyes.

  That doesn't last long though. He lets out a shaky sigh. "Yeah. Guess I'll just have to--"

  "I'm sorry. For everything I'm putting you through right now."

  "Don't be," and he plants a delicate kiss on your chapped lips.

  Who are you again?

  Oh, you're John Egbert, and this is real, right?


	8. Faking a Smile

  The rest of the day passed somewhat nicely. You did miss your first class, Bio, though. You were probably going to get scolded for missing the huge dissection all the students were raving about, but having that lengthy cuddle-session with Dave was definitely worth it. 

  Everything was a bit easier now, but still... After years of the 'no homo', you're the biggest homo you've ever met, and you've met tons. Bluh. But that doesn't really matter anymore. You're happy with Dave, and that's all that matters. 

  You meet up with the boy at a local coffee shop for lunch, and you decide to buy a small sandwich. Dave claims he's not hungry, but you end up splitting the snack anyways. He pays you back, although it takes several tries before you sigh and accept the money. The two of you sit and laugh at the most bland and boring things in the shop. That's what's so great about being friends with him-- you could laugh about anything and everything. Almost every day, you'd be doubled over in laughter, clutching your sides and gasping for air. That roaring laughter and labored breathing ceases when you spot Janet swiftly step inside the shop, taking a few glances around and spotting you two before taking a step towards you. You guess Dave sees her as well because you hear a minute, nervous sigh. 

   _This is it, huh?_ You sigh as well, almost wishing it didn't have to be like this. You're tearing their relationship apart, and you guess you were still somewhat human because you feel kind of bad. But Dave agreed with you, and "it's for the best." You think it might be, but is that just you wanting to be satisfied? You guess it's not so much your decision anymore-- Dave seems like he really wants this as well, and now that you know he actually wasn't happy with Janet, maybe it's easier for you to accept your sins. The whole thing is selfish, but... Or is it? You'd be happy together, right? 

  You eventually lose interest in those dark thoughts, and you see the familiar face of Janet right in front of you, next to Dave. She gives you the fakest smile you've ever seen, and it seems to be hinting 'Stay the fuck away from him-- he's  _mine.'_ She gives the blonde a posessive kiss, and this is really ridiculous. You have to admit: she's beautiful, but you're pretty sure that's only on the outside. Pushing her dark hair behind her ear, Janet shuffles and wraps an arm around Dave, adjusting her tank top, which is partially covered by a small, dark green jacket. 

  You're kind of staring unintentionally, so you're a bit surprised when Dave decides to break the awkward silence with a "Sup Janet?" You kind of cringe at her name because man she is fucking sickly sweet, and it's so fake and disgusting. You don't even try to care about their conversation, but you do hear Janet spitting out a series of cheesynames like honey-bunch, sweetheart, deary, loveling, honey-bunny, and the list goes on. You'd be ok if it were anyone else, but the way she says it... It's so posessive _\-- poisonous._

On the other hand, you'd feel so awful for her if Dave's planning to break up with her now. She seemed so happy, even if it was fake or stressed or whatever. But you're pretty sure this shit is going to happen  _now,_ so you just stand up with an "Excuse me" and walk over to the line of restless customers and wait to waste your money on an excuse to leave. 

  Then you hesitantly over the expensive crap people call food, and you're basically just trying to avoid being seen by the couple. Well, can you even call them a couple anymore?

  You sigh and waste another dollar or so on a brownie, which is surprisingly pretty good, and you make your way to the other side of the cozy shop. You catch glimpses of Janet and Dave as the different shades of hipster wander around the shop. After a good five minutes or so, however, the shop is almost completely empty. All the kids are rushing to their next class or whatever they have to do, so you just stand there, sneakily eyeing a flustered Janet and apologetic Dave every once in a while. _So that's it..._  

  Another wave of guilt and grief washes over you as you watch them. And then it dawns upon you: You, John Egbert, have just annihilated a somewhat stable but happy relationship.

  And then you realize that everything could be fake. Maybe Dave was using you as an excuse to break up with Janet and nothing more. Maybe this was all an act. Maybe these are all excuses claiming that you're not in the wrong. But you can't just get away like that.

  It's done, and it's all because of you. And suddenly all you want to do is run over there and lie 'It's a prank, Janet! Totally got you there, huh?' But you can't even do that. It's already too late, and you just  _now_ regret this. She's walking away now. She's done wearing a fake smile-- she's walking away. She's rushing out the shop now, and this is your fault. 

  You're crying now, and it doesn't matter how many times you tell yourself an adult shouldn't cry in public-- you've already done it too many times. Can't you just have one fairly good day? One that doesn't include sobbing. 

  So you do the douchiest thing your brain can conjure up. You wipe your tears quickly, before anyone can see them, and you rush out of that goddamned place so fast, running back to your room and leaving an already upset Dave back there. You throw yourself onto the bed, and within a minute, your whimpers turn into violent sobs. You're shaking and sobbing and clutching at the sheets like the miserable asshole you are. It's hard to believe you were happy about this not even an hour ago. It's hilarious how you now pity Janet, and you just want to apologize to her and comfort her. You still hardly know her, yet you did this to her. And now you feel the need to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. You did this. 

  You did this.

  You are John Egbert, and you probably just ruined a good year of a poor girl's life. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is really short  
> gomen

  You're Dave Strider, and what to you have to do to make him happy?

  So here's the deal:

  You go out with someone you don't even love for the sake of your best friend, also your long-time crush. And then he tells you he loves you too, and you break up with your "girlfriend" for him, and now he runs away?

  You can't blame him, and you're definitely not mad, and he probably thinks it's all his fault and that you're lying, but that's not true. You just want him to be happy. And that seems like something you just can't do. 

  You love him, you love him, you love him. You'ev loved him since you met him. You'll always love him no matter what. But what are you to him right now? Nothing, a liar, shit, a burden? But you love him. You'd do anything for him, and you  _will_ fix this mess. So you do the most idiotic thing anyone could ever think of. You run after an upset John Egbert. That's definitely not the best idea. In fact, it's a really terrible idea you've ever gotten, but waiting might be worse. 

  You've also got nothing left to lose...

  Except maybe John. 

  Okay, yeah. He's the only thing you care about now, and, man, you swear he's gonna be the death of you.

  So within ten minutes, you're panting in front of the door to the room. And John's definitely in there. You know that for a fact because you can fucking hear him  _sobbing,_ and that just breaks your heart. He's sobbing, and it's your fault. John is sobbing because of what you've done, and knowing him, he's probably blaming it on himself. Yeah, he's an idiot sometimes. 

  And you want to go in there, hug him all better, lovingly kiss the top of his head, but you know you can't. That'd probably leave him feeling worse. He probably thinks you're a liar, a fake, but he needs comfort. Would he feel better or worse if you went in there and tried to hug him all better? But what else can you do? You're definitely not going to just stand like this outside, waiting to get smacked in the face by the door when he decides to come out.

  So you hesitantly take out your key and stealthily slip it into the keyhole. He's got really fucking good ears because immediately, the sobbing ceases. 

  Your heart sinks. He's not scared of you...right?

  With your heart racing, you gather the nerve to turn the handle and let the old, damaged door slide open ever so slowly with those painful shrieks escaping the metal hinges. 

  Your heart sinks even more when you see him sitting there on his bed, wiping at his eyes like it's even possible to conceal the fact that he was sobbing. The boy even looks like he's been expecting you because those deep blue eyes penetrate the shades that are supposed to hide you and your demonic red eyes from the rest of the world. 

  You're actually scared.

  The great Dave Strider is finally scared of something other than Bro's terrifying smuppets. 


	10. When a Relationship Revolves Around Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im--  
> holy balls sorry this took so long.   
> i'd forgotten my notebook/journal thingy at school. uwu;  
> but here is the long awaited chapter ten for my few friends here who gave kudos or bookmarked or commented.  
> thank you guys soooooOOoooOOo much, and i hope you continue to enjoy this, though i have no idea how enjoying my writing is possible.

  "John?" you test, a quiver clear in your voice. He doesn't answer though. He just sits there-- and you kind of hope he's just as scared, nervous, and anxious as you are. You doubt he is, though.

  What you do know, though, is that he's trying to look calm, stay calm, but you know how shaken up he is. The poor boy's even still trembling, one hand frozen in place next to his eye, where you suspect he was wiping at before you barged in. And a part of you, a big part, just wants to break down and sit on the floor. You don't even know if you can manage to form any more tears. Despite this, you know you can't. That is the one thing you can't do. But this is hard, this is so hard, and your chest feels ready to explode. You can only hope John doesn't punch you and kick you or whatever else. Actually, you really don't care if he does or not. The only thing that matters to you is mantaining your already established relationship as best friends. You don't want to be sharing a room with someone that hates you, and you definitely don't want to get kicked out and shoved into a sweaty asshole's room. You just want to be laughing all day and all night with John, your best friend. 

  But after what seems like a lifetime, your ears pick up something other than the exaggerated pounding of your heart. "I--" You hear him croak, voice rough, but he doesn't clear his throat. But that's a response, which means that's progress. 

  Not knowing what to mutter out after that, you determine apologizing is a good way to go. And so does he. So you both give a soft "I'm sorry" in unison, and you have to clear your throat afterwards in embarrassment. 

  "John?" shakily, you breathe out.

  Half-deciding to give you the smartass answer, he starts, "I don't fucking see anyone els--" But he stops himself, ending his half-executed statement with another "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be."

  And you guess at that point, he's done playing little uke and letting you baby him or whatever. Basically, he just wants you to let him apologize and take the blame, which, for you, is really fucking hard, but if it makes him happy... "No, you just shut the fuck up and let me apologize, ok?" You've never really seen him so mad. The scolding you got for breaking one of his favorite CDs was the worst one you've got, and even that was laced with some laughted. This. This was on a totally different level. Wide-eyed, you let him continue. "I'm sorry, and it's my fault. Not yours.  _I'm_ the one who kept running away.  _I'm_ the one who got you in this fucking  _mess._ _I'm_ the one that was jealous.  _I_ did this. It's my fault, and don't act like it's not. Don't apologize to me and tell me it's  _your_ fault because it's actually  _mine."_ You've never seen John yell like this. And you never want to see him like this again. Covered in his own tears, cheeks puffy, eyebrows furrowed, adorable mouth contorted into a frown. Never will you ever want to see this again. And that whole rant came out so rapidly you're just standing there for a minute, mouth gaping, trying to shout and cry.  _  
_

  "I--" you start.

  He completes your sentence and makes it his own, "Sorry."

  And even though he might punch you, kick you, whatever, you slowly make your way over to him, speechless, and wrap your arms around him, pulling the boy into a tight hug that you think both of you need.  To your shock, he lets you hug him. He lets you bury your face in his shirt. He les you take comfort in his presence when you shouldn't be worth it anymore. Hell, after a minute, he even wraps his arms around you. It isn't until another minute later, you feel the first of another set of tears on your shirt. This is only making it harder for you to push back your own tears hiding within you. You just let him cry.

  Soon afterwards you detect a faint whisper, and you try to ignore that his tears are scattered all over your shirt. "Dave..."

  Again, you stifle your tears and answer with a voice so quiet that if he weren't within a one centimeter radius, he wouldn't be able to hear you. "Y-yes?"

  "Sorry," is all you hear, and you fail so miserably at stifling those tears any longer.

  You just choke out through sobs, "Egbert, I swear, I'm getting so fucking tired of your goddamne apologies, just..." You trail off and eventually forget your original words, so you decide a good substitute for them is a kiss on his forehead. John seems to be neutral with that because he doesn't move or anything, but he doesn't push you away either. You guess he's done convincing you to stop apologize too. Dubiously, you try, "I love you." 

  To your surpise, you get, "I..." And he trails off, but nevertheless, he continues. "I love you too."

  For the first time in what seems like centuries, a smile creeps across your face. Not an ironic one, not a hostile one, not a fake one, but a genuine smile. And it's a big one, too. And you know no relationships should revolve around incessant apologies, especially not this one. You love yoru best friend, and you're determined to fix this whole thing, one step at a time.

  You just have to make sure Janet doesn't destroy it, or John, first.


	11. Chapter 11

  Before it happened, you thought maybe everything would be cheerier and steadier after Dave broke up with Janet, the girl you've never thought of more than a fake, sickly sweet dancer. You're still not blaming her for anything; she's totally innocent in this whole thing! Assuming she's not brainstorming countless plans to make your life even more miserable at the moment. She's kind of famous for leading her little gossip posse around. The thing is: she somehow always manages to blame a totally innocent bystander for the poisonous rumors she started. You've heard that your friend saw her smirk at a sobbing girl drinking in the lounge once. Point is, Janet isn't the nicest girl, but she is pretty clever. But enough about Janet. Everything's ok at the moment, and for now, that's all that matters. You're kind of starting to get tired of waking up, thoughts of the crap she could do swimming around in your stressed mind.

  But things are slowly getting worse again, and you remember those terrifying thoughts about how confessing could totally destroy your established broship with Dave. You just couldn't help yourself then. And you guess it didn't destroy your friendship. Maybe Dave didn't say those things out of pity for you. Maybe he didn't say them to escape his relationship with Janet. You wouldn't know if the relationship was going well or not at the time, anyways. Ever since their dramatic breakup written by yourself a week ago, you've actually caught yourself thinking how it actually could have and might've sparked a romantic relationship between you and Dave. Maybe it actually did. You catch yourself thinking that a lot. It looks as if it did anyways. You're probably just scared to admit it, and you're probably also scared to initiate a 'normal' conversation with Dave again. You haven't spoken to him much. Ever since last week, It's all just been a series of "hey"s and "sup"s and "nothing much"s. 

  You're 99% sure Dave isn't mad at you, though. He seems to understand, and he seems to respect that you're really fucking sensitive and that you need your time with this. And he's probably just as scared as you are when it comes to what Janet might do. You've both reached an tacit agreement that eventaully she'd do something to ruin your lives. Or at least try to ruin your lives.

  For now, though, you just have to focus on easing yourself into this glorious mess a somewhat stable romantic relationship can be molded out of. You've got to do this right. So you start by sucking in a deep breath and getting ready to face Dave casually again. Maybe you'll casually chat with him  _after_ a nice, apologetic hug though. Yeah, that sounds nice. 

  It's currently lunchtime, the period of time you've been spending alone in your room for the past week. Thankfully, you still remember where Dave usually is at this time. How could you forget? He's always at that dreaded place where it all happened but a few days ago. In fact, he's probably headed back to campus by now, so you better hurry. Grabbing your thin coat and phone, you hurriedly speed out of the room. The shop's location is branded into your head. Within a minute, you find yourself jogging to your destination, pavement littered with gum, scraps of newspaper and food, and the occasional coin. Still the same. This city'll never change. It's a bit comforting-- all the pigeons and litter. 

  The whole time, you replay that tearful scene you witnessed a week ago. Maybe if you think about it enough and replay it enough, it'll go away. You can't believe you're headed there now. 

  And you're just so completely lost in thought, it takes you what feels like a whole five minutes to register that a surprised and suspicious Dave is but a few yards in front of you. It takes you another lasting second or so for your brain to yell a 'stop!' at your legs. Man is this awkward. You're stupid.

  You manage an inaudible "Dave" before you realize he can't hear you over the sound of the restless crowd's laughter, chattering, and whines. So you nervously repeat yourself, somewhat louder, just enough to be audible this time. "Dave."

  Immediately, you get a reply. "John, wh--" You can see the mis of confusion and surprise on his face. He still thinks you can't read him because of those useless shades you gifted to him all those ages ago. He continues, "I thought you were gonna stay in the room?"

  "Yeah, well I decided a bit too late to go out and," you trail off for a moment, a bit proud of the firmness in your voice. "Thought I'd come see you."


	12. Reconciliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok heuheuhuueh  
> finally

  You are Dave Strider, and you're genuinely confused. You're just really, really, _really_  fucking confused.

  If anything, you thought this kid despised you now. He kind of fled from you that other day. And about five times before that. But you can't stay mad at him; you were never really mad in the first place. You were kind of bursting that huge personal bubble of his. Suddenly, now, nothing's wrong at all. Which is good, you guess. It's just odd-- really odd. It's like an explosive volcanic eruption just shutting the fuck up and stopping in the middle of its fiery orgasm. 

  You're confused, but your gut and everything else is saying just don't think that way and hug him or something. So why not? You pull him into the tightest of hugs, and you swear you can hear How Do I Live playing in the background. Great, he's finally baptized you with the music of Con Air. 

  Stifling the tears of happiness and everything else you've been shielding from the universe, you just stand there and hold him tight. You don't care if any of those teenage faggots walking by are spitting insults out at you. You wouldn't care if magically, Bro found you and showered you in smuppet ass. And to your surprise, John finally wraps his arms around you. You swear to god this is the only kid that can break your coolkid facade. He'll be the death of you for sure.

  "Dave," he offers with something hardly louder than a whisper, and you cock a brow. When you realize he can't see your puzzled expression because his freaking forehead's resting comfortably on your shoulder, your answer is already delayed by about ten seconds. So you just choke out something that doesn't even qualify as a word. Your own eloquence astounds you, "Mmm?"

  Presently there's a slight pause. More like long pause. You can tell the boy's thinking, thinking hard. And although you've been best friends for so many years, although you've embarrassed each other in public in almost every single way possible, this whole incident with Janet really shook things up. John trusts you again; you can tell. He's made up his mind, gotten rid of the stormy cloud that was lingering there. But does he trust you enough to... "I love you." Your thoughts are cut off with exactly what you wanted to hear, and an even wider smile creeps innocently across your lips. David Strider, your facade is being annihilated! But you can't give a shit now. This is John Egbert saying he loves you. 

  If it were any other day, you'd tease him and laugh before ruffling his hair. But it's not any other day. You're not laughing, not questioning him. You really don't want to interrogate him. You just choke out what you've been wanting to say for the past years. "John, I love you too." 

  He smiles and looks up at you before nuzzling your neck, and you realize that you've been reconciled, your relationship with him is restored and made more concrete,  and you're finally relaxed and happy for once. The past month feels like a decade. But all that terror is gone now.

  "Class?" you give with something like a chuckle, and for what seems like the first time, you hear that glorious giggle-snort. You finally see that gorgeous smile.

  "Way to ruin the moment, man!" He laughs, then adds, "But yeah, class sounds nice-- Oh god, did I just say that?"

  "Pretty much," you offer a laugh of your own, and it's a beautiful sound you haven't heard in so long.

  So you drag him along, one arm around his shoulders protectively as if he's made of porcelain. Like he's gold. Like he's the only ball of light in the whole entire world. Well, he's the only ball of light in your world.

  But you realize something: Janet. She's made an enemy out of the both of you now.


End file.
